Think of me
by Haley Moore
Summary: Songfic. Watson tries to go on living with the death of Sherlock Holmes. Story is better then the summary!I hope Please r&r.


In Death

A/N: Okay, I know this is a common topic, but I had to take a shot at it. I own no one! (Sad face)

"Holmes! Holmes where are you? Holmes!"

A nightmare. Dr. John Watson had gotten use to these. Ever since….No he would not think of it. Watson climbed out of bed "I mustn't wake my wife." He thought. He looked over at his beloved Mary's sleeping form. Oh, how he loved her. John Watson leaned over to his wife, and kissed her gently on her forehead. Her nose crinkled a little, and she turned over.

Watson made his way down towards his living quarters. He glanced at the clock, 7:45 it read. Holmes would have been up now…

Watson walked to his chair near the fire. There was no flame in the hearth. But that did not matter.

It had been two weeks since his friend, Mr. Sherlock Holmes had died.

Reichenbach Falls…

Professor James Moriarty…

Watson did not know what to do with his emotions. Holmes had always told him to be strong, to not be so over-dramatic. But now Sherlock Holmes was gone. Nothing could bring him back now. Not even John Hamish Watson.

Sherlock…

Watson needed to go. He needed to see 221B Baker Street once again. He had sworn to himself he'd never return there…Not without Holmes. But he had to. So he grabbed his hat, and coat.

Then he paused.

He could almost hear his friend,

"The game is afoot!"

Watson knew it wasn't. Not for Holmes anyway.

As Watson walked down 221B Baker Street, he remembered Holmes' eager spirit. Had Holmes been there, Watson wouldn't be sulking down Baker Street. He'd be with Sherlock Holmes… Watson saw it. 221B Baker Street.

Ghosts.

Watson could not bring himself to enter. (And that wasn't just because the door was locked) Just standing out there, on that street, seeing that big bow window, was enough.

Watson saw a silhouette against the blinds. Holmes. It had to be!

He's dead.

Watson realized it couldn't be Holmes, it could never be Sherlock Holmes. Watson kicked the building.

"Damn you Holmes!" Screamed John Watson. How dare Holmes do this to Watson! How dare he put himself in harms way! Watson wished he never met Holmes. How dare Holmes left him all alone.

Watson was surprised.

He loved Holmes as a family. When he came to London he had no family. Or friends. Sherlock Holmes was his family, Sherlock Holmes was his friend.

He realized how much Holmes had done for him. Holmes had shown him love, when no one else had any to give. Holmes had become a part of his heart. And now that he was gone, some of his heart died. Watson closed his eyes, and prepared himself for a breakdown. He sat by the curve in front of 221B Baker Street, and cried silently. Then the voice came.

It's all your fault, you idiot.

Watson hated that voice. But he knew it was true. Had he have just paid attention, maybe he could have saved Sherlock Holmes. He practically let Moriarty take Holmes from this world.

Instead of thinking of the end, he tried thinking of the beginning.

"You have been in Afghanistan I perceive."

Watson would never forget those first words said to him at St. Bart's. They were the first words that would start a friendship transparently everlasting in time. The first words that Sherlock Holmes had ever spoken to him. Those words to him were far more precious then all the tea in India. How he wished Holmes were here.

Watson looked up at 221B Baker Street.

"I'm sorry Holmes." Thought Watson. "You counted on me. And I let you down."

John Watson knew he could never forget Sherlock Holmes. Nobody could. Sherlock Holmes was immortal. His life, and soul would live beyond his heroic end, and beyond his life, so that in reality he became larger than life itself. Sherlock Holmes would never die. He would live in everyone's memory forever.

Watson realized that Mary Watson was his life now. He had experiences with Sherlock Holmes that would sustain him for a lifetime. But the man was dead now, and those times where over. But no matter what, he would always remember Mr. Sherlock Holmes.

The best, and wisest man whom I have ever known. 

Think of me, think of me fondly, when we've said goodbye. Remember me once in a while - please promise me you'll try.

When you find that, once again, you long to take your heart back and be free - if you ever find a moment spare a thought for me ... We never said our love was evergreen, or as unchanging as the sea - but if you can still remember, stop and think of me ... Think of all the things we've shared and seen - don't think about the things which might have been ...

Think of me, think of me waking, silent and resigned. Imagine me, trying too hard to put you from my mind. Recall those days, look back on all those times, think of the things we'll never do -

there will never be a day, when I won't think of you.

A/N: What do you think? I'm dying. I think I did pretty nicely, but I need your reviews! 


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